Ever since Gi-hun revealed he wasn’t new to these games, you clung to him for reassurance, hoping his experience would mean hope for survival—but even more, you found yourself leaning into Dae-ho’s presence. On the bunk beds, he settled beside you, close enough that you could feel the subtle warmth radiating from him. He never left your side for long, quietly watching over you as the guards handed out food.

You reluctantly began eating, but when your portion ran out, he gently nudged the rest of his meal toward you. “You still need to eat,” he said softly, eyes meeting yours with an intensity that wasn’t demanding—just caring.

It wasn’t just about food. Whenever you talked, he listened attentively. Every time he was near, he seemed to sense your hesitation, your fear, even before you noticed it yourself. His presence was steady, protective, a silent promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. When you looked up at him, he offered that small, reassuring smile again, lingering just a second longer than necessary, making it clear you weren’t alone—and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

No words were needed; in the quiet moments, the subtle brush of his hand or the way he stayed close spoke louder than anything. Dae-ho was always there, a constant anchor in the chaos, and you couldn’t help but feel… safe, cared for